


The Prisoner's Dilemma

by thebravelittlemonkey



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bromance, F/M, Frenemies, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Season/Series 01, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebravelittlemonkey/pseuds/thebravelittlemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy, Finn, and Octavia are forced to join forces with an old foe as they search for Clarke and the others. But deals with the devil have a way of backfiring, and the survivors soon find themselves in a new dilemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survivors

“Hello?”

Bellamy’s voice echoed in the eery stillness of the black and grey world that surrounded him, a tenuous plea for hope that bounced back to him in apathy. He had trudged past fourteen graves only to find himself in a graveyard, and reality was falling in around him in thick, ashy flakes. Part of him felt like falling too, sinking to his knees and letting the deathly snow bury him with his comrades. But he couldn’t fall, not just yet. Not when he still had one soldier left to lead.

“Hey, Collins, come on. Eyes open,” he reminded, shifting his grip on the half-conscious brunette’s waist to nudge him awake. 

“They’re open,” Finn murmured unconvincingly, leaning heavily against his companion as he practically dragged him back to camp. They both looked like hell, but Bellamy was fairing slightly better than the concussed Space Walker. A large gash above his left eye was proof enough of the severe head wound he had suffered, and they were both tattooed with a smattering of burns. Bellamy’s right hand was so severely charred that not a single piece of clean flesh could be found, and the mangled thing hung uselessly at his side. 

“Nice try,” Bellamy responded with half-hearted sarcasm. “Here, sit down for a minute, I’m going to check for supplies,” he explained, setting Finn down as gently as he could manage with one arm. As the spent teen rested against the remains of their east wall, Bellamy took a mental inventory of their collective injuries, trying to diagnose, prioritize, and repair, but to his untrained eyes, everything just looked bad. 

“Keep watch. And no sleeping on the job,” he commanded his army of one, hoping nothing more than to just keep the kid alive through the night. 

“Aye, aye Cap,” came the cheeky reply as Finn managed to squint his one good eye open to scan to horizon for invaders. God only knew what they would do if they were attacked, but at least they wouldn’t die ignorant.

“Hello?” The drop ship was as dismally empty as the rest of camp, but Bellamy repeated his call just the same. There had to be someone, anyone, still left alive in the godforsaken ship. The place was a wreck: banner ripped, rations scattered, and hammocks twisted. It looked like the place had been ransacked, and the missing guns did nothing to quell his fears: the Grounders had gotten there first. Adding the theory to his long list of priorities, Bellamy pulled aside the tattered remains of a blanket to finally find some good news. 

Clarke’s meager set of makeshift medical supplies were still intact, hidden behind the basin of moonshine. It was a small victory, but it would be enough. With a little luck, it might even get them through the night. 

* * *

They didn’t sleep that night, Captain’s orders. Bellamy didn’t remember enough from his Biomedical class, but instinct told him not to let Finn go to sleep, not yet at least. It was the same instinct that had told him to leave the knife in, and he could only hope he was right this time, too. With no healer to confirm his decision, doubt pecked at him through the dark hours. 

The first few passed uneasily, the slightest breeze setting them on edge as they awaited the inevitable whistle of an arrow or flash of a sword. Eventually, the paranoia faded and the greatest threat became their own heavy lids. Bellamy forced his companion awake with a constant stream of questions and they passed the darkest hours speculating the fate of their friends, of the Ark, and of their own future.

Even in a world of uncertainty, however, their questions still ran out. In the glowing moments before dawn, Finn set a new task to focus his muddled mind and when dawn finally broke, the two had nearly finished the job. The ground before them was engraved in a maze of letters, blossoming out from Bellamy and surrounding them like ripples in the water. It was a mosaic of initials, scratched into the dirt with the tip of a blade. Ninety-eight names. Ninety-eight faces they may never see again. Only their own initials were missing from the pile and...

“I feel like we’re still missing one.”

“That’s ninety-eight. I counted, twice.”

“You got Fox?”

“Yup.”

“And Mbege?”

“Right there.”

“Oh wait, I know who it is. We forgot-”

“Bellamy!” The shout startles them both from their work and Bellamy doesn’t even have a chance to feel fear before relief washes over him. 

“Octavia!” He couldn’t get up fast enough to greet her as she came limping through the gate, disentangling herself from Lincoln’s supporting arms as she rushed to greet him. They were both in such sad shape, that the clichéd run-and-hug turned out more like a stumble-and-cling, but they were in each other’s arms fast enough and that was all that mattered.

“Lincoln said you were...I thought...” Octavia trails off, breathless as she holds the mirage in her arms, still in disbelief. 

“How’re you alive?” she asks, managing to string enough words together for a question.

“The tunnel, Finn’s idea,” he responds, pulling back a moment to take a look at his sister. He’s grinning ear-to-ear and so is she, both too overjoyed to bother with specifics. His explanation has told her nothing, so Finn fills in the gaps.

“We got caught outside the drop ship when the thrusters went off. The tunnel cover is made from the ship’s panels, so it kept the heat out. Mostly,” Finn added, giving a sheepish shrug of his shoulders as he looked himself over. The plan had been less than ideal, but it had kept them alive and only a little crispy.

“Oh Bell, your hand!” Octavia gasped, noticing the damage for the first time. 

“It’s fine,” Bellamy brushed off, “How’s the leg?”

“Oh don’t even. Just let me look at it,” she shot back, and at once the two were bickering just like any other morning. Finn chuckled lightly to himself, slowly stretching out his cramped legs and pulling himself into a standing position as he made his way over to the reunion.

“Glad to see you made it, too,” he greeted, nodding to the ever-silent Lincoln who only returned the gesture. He seemed much more preoccupied looking around the remains of the camp, searching for something.

“Where’s everyone else?” Octavia asked, looking between Bellamy and Finn as if expecting to see more.

“We were hoping you would know,” Bellamy replied honestly, a look of disappointment barely concealed on his face.

“Lincoln told me everyone was gone but-”

“I was right,” Lincoln interrupted, stooping down to retrieve one of the discarded gas canisters that littered the ground. They waited in silence as he mulled over his thoughts, turning the curious item around in his hand. “We should keep moving.”

“Hold on, we’re not going anywhere yet. What do you mean gone?” The leader’s voice quickly reclaimed its authority as Bellamy questioned him.

“Did the Grounders take them?” Finn chimed in.

“Not Grounders...” Lincoln responded, shaking his head as he dropped the canister back to the earth with a look of disgust.

“Mountain Men,” Octavia finished, her tone becoming grim and foreboding.

“Where did they take them?” Finn asked, searching both of their expressions for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Lincoln dismissed, clearly anxious to leave the open-air of the camp as he looked over his shoulder for the third time.

“You could ask your people, they must know something,” Finn continued, pushing for the answers he so desperately needed.

“Ask my people? Why do you think we traveled through the night? If my people find me, they will execute me for what I did to help _you_ and _your_ people,” Lincoln scowled, anger rising in his tone as he rounded on Finn. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t...” Finn began, startled by the sudden burst of frustration as he struggled to backtrack his hasty remark.

“We’ll find them ourselves,” Bellamy concluded, ignoring the brewing conflict in hopes that it would dissipate as quickly as it began. Now that they knew what had happened to the rest of their friends, they could start moving forward. Details could fall into place later, but for now, they had a purpose again. Or so he thought.

“There’s no one to find,” Lincoln refuted, shattering their hopes instantly. “I don’t know much about the Mountain Men but I know they don’t release their prisoners, only ashes over the river. I’m sorry, but your people are dead.” A heavy silence followed his words as they each internalized their meaning. Finn only closed his eyes, bowing his head in a solemn moment of grief. Bellamy looked like he wanted to argue, but it was Octavia that spoke up first.

“But what if they aren’t? Lincoln you told me they were all dead, but look at them!” she proclaimed, throwing her arms out to the battered boys beside her.

“They were lucky,” Lincoln conceded, but he looked unconvinced. “But if we don’t leave soon, that good fortune will be wasted. We need to head East.”

“But what if others were lucky? We can’t just leave now. We have to at least try,” she continued, stubbornly standing her ground in an argument they were clearly rehashing. “The sea people can wait.”

“Sea people?” Bellamy interjected. He was starting to lose track of all these new names, and he wondered just how outnumbered they were down here.

“The Marijo; they are another clan, at least a two days journey from here, but they should take us in,” Lincoln explained. “You can ask them about the Mountain Men if you wish, maybe they will know more,” he added, catching Finn’s gaze. 

“If they know about the Mountain Men, I say we try it,” Finn agreed, jumping on board with the plan without hesitation. “What else are we going to do?”

“If there are other survivors they would come here, we can’t abandon them,” Bellamy responded, processing the new wave of information as he tried to come up with a single course of action.

“Two days might be too long! People were injured, Lincoln, we need to go after them now,” Octavia added.

“I’ve told you, they are gone. Please, Octavia, you have to let this go,” Lincoln implored, growing impatient with the circuitous conversation. 

“Maybe we could track them?” Finn proposed but this only agitated the Grounder more.

“You don’t chase down death,” he warned, patience growing thin as he tried to reason with the children before him.

“We can’t leave them!” Octavia refuted.

“All right enough!” Bellamy declared, his voice booming as it once did to capture the attention of one hundred chaotic teens. “Lincoln, you go these sea people. See if they know anything about what happened and,” he paused for a moment, as if reconsidering his decision before he continued, “..and see if they will take us in. I’m not taking any chances, I don’t want to walk into another war.

“We’ll stay here and look for survivors, see if we can gather any more information about what happened. We would slow you down anyways. You said it was a two day trip? That gives us four days to rest and gather supplies and any survivors we can. When you come back, we’ll come to a decision, okay?” He looked around at the three of them as he awaited the dissent that was sure to come.

“It’s not safe for you to stay here, my people, they’ll-” Lincoln began.

“Your people think we’re dead. Who would they come looking for?” Bellamy cut off, already anticipating the argument. He empathized with Lincoln; he was clearly unconcerned for his own safety, only Octavia’s, but he had passed that torch for long enough. From now on, he could take care of his own sister.

“Lincoln, I’ll be fine. And Bellamy’s right, we’re not going to cover much ground with my leg. You’ll be faster alone,” she persuaded, gently taking hold of his forearms as she felt the tension held in his muscles. It was apparent that the plan made him uneasy, but he seemed to have run out of excuses, or at least the motivation to make them. Curling his arms around her waist, he leveled his gaze with hers.

“Stay out of sight. Don’t give them a reason to come back here, and if they do, run,” he advised, brow creased in worry even as she offered him a reassuring smile. “I _will_ be back for you.”

“And I’ll be here. Promise,” she replied, bestowing a brief parting kiss before Bellamy could grumble about it. Lincoln wasted no time on goodbyes, moving immediately to head off on his journey. He paused only to address Bellamy one last time.

“This is fool’s hope.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But if we find even one survivor, it will be worth it,” Bellamy asserted, remembering the words he had once ignored. “Down here, every life matters.”

* * *

After Lincoln parted, the three busied themselves repairing both their camp and themselves. Finn was finally given a chance to nap under the condition that one of the Blakes woke him up every hour. Each time they were greeted with the sarcastic and sleepy reply of ‘still alive,’ before the exhausted boy would drift back off. The arrow wound in Octavia’s leg was burdensome, but healing well thanks to Lincoln’s handiwork. Bellamy’s hand, however, was in sore need of medical attention. They had doused the burned flesh in moonshine, and wrapped it in the cleanest cloth they could find, but the exposed tendons screamed in pain at even the simplest movement. 

As a result, work was slow, but while Finn rested, the two managed to clean the lower level of the drop ship and salvage three usable hammocks. Now they were taking a much needed break, gathered around the remains of their fire pit, enjoying the rations that were now plentiful in the absence of others. 

“So you really think others might have survived,” Octavia asked between mouthfuls of orange nuts. 

“I think there’s a fair chance. Some of the outer guard maybe,” Bellamy offered, holding onto hope for her sake as much as his own.

“Not everyone made it on the drop ship, I’m sure some of them thought to run like we did,” Finn agreed, leaning back against the hollow frame of an old ship seat. The fabrics had been scorched away in the blast, but it still served its purpose.

“After this we’ll start a perimeter search, see if anyone is pinned down or injured. Finn and I will go. You rest up that leg,” he said, noting her look of disappointment. “That is if you’re up for it Sleeping Beauty,” he added, looking over to his companion with a wry smile.

“I’m the best tracker you’ve got,” Finn shot back, grinning despite the emptiness that hung around them. 

“Wait...guys I think someone’s coming!” Octavia interrupted, immediately dropping the food in her hands as she reached for her sword instead.

“It might be a Grounder, keep quiet,” Bellamy warned, cautiously observing the approaching figure as his hand moved to the hatchet by his side. 

“Or a survivor,” Octavia countered optimistically. 

“He looks injured. Too small to be a Grounder,” Finn added, squinting against the sun to get a better look, but it was Octavia who identified the stranger first.

“Oh you’ve got some nerve...” she started, her voice humming with barely contained rage as the grip on her sword tightened.

“Is that...?” Finn’s voice was as incredulous as Octavia’s was furious, and he blinked several times, positive that the concussion was playing tricks on his eyes.

Bellamy said nothing, only marched forward to meet the intruder with an unreadable expression. It was the last face he had expected to see back in camp, the last face he wanted to see. Not a Grounder, not a survivor, but a ghost he had hoped to bury long ago. One that wouldn’t stop coming back to haunt him.

Murphy.

He was making his way slowly, but purposefully, back towards the toppled wall. It wasn’t until he reached the gate that he seemed to noticed Bellamy’s presence, and the sight froze him instantly.

“Look, Bellamy, I’m just here to-” The excuse was only half way out his mouth before the hatchet was out of Bellamy’s hand. Murphy barely had time to duck before the it came flying towards his head, passing dangerously close to his left ear as its owner followed swiftly behind it. Bellamy’s first punch caught him square in the jaw, but he managed to catch the second one, recovering with a sloppy parry that forced the taller male to stumble back. But Bellamy rushed forward again with a relentless force, throwing wild, furious blows at his old enemy, a murderous look in his eyes that seemed to frighten even the murderer.

“Woah woah, guys stop!” Finn shouted, running over to intervene in the savage brawl that had broken out between the two, and Octavia followed close behind. It took both of them to pull the two apart, Finn pulling back Murphy as Octavia placed herself in front of Bellamy as a human shield.

“Bell, wait,” she pleaded, holding a hand against his heaving chest as he tried to maneuver his way past her.

“Just calm down for a second,” Finn ordered, keeping hold of Murphy’s arm as he prepared to push back Bellamy as well. “Can we just talk for a minute here?”

“Why?” the leader growled, his voice a low rumble as he stared down his opponent, not bothering to look at Finn. “Give me one good reason not to kill him,” he challenged, and Finn faltered as he tried to produce an answer. Octavia seemed likewise dumbfounded by the question, and for a moment, they both went silent. It was Murphy that finally broke the tension.

“Because I know where they took them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Exposition. Sorry! This was supposed to be the short intro chapter and then it turned into the longest set-up ever. The next chapter should be much more exciting, because Murphy makes everything more exciting in the best and worst way possible. Get ready for some punch-therapy and a LOT of sass. Just from everyone. Except Lincoln because he’ll be MIA for a bit, saving everyone’s ass and all. The usual. 
> 
> Reviews and comments are always loved. All good writing is rewriting, and I’d really appreciate some feedback if you have any.


	2. Crossroads

“Bullshit.”

Bellamy’s eyes were still locked on Murphy, muscles tensed and ready, but he didn’t make a move. No one did. Despite Bellamy’s quick rebuttal, Murphy’s claim had brought them all to a standstill, frozen in skeptical curiosity. 

“Let’s just hear him out,” Finn suggested, trying to pacify the raging tempers around him to avoid yet another blood bath. He had seen enough death for one day, for one lifetime, and he hoped just this once they could talk things out.

But Bellamy only scoffed at Finn’s naivety, voice rising with patronizing disdain. “Hear him out? He’s lying!” 

“So what? What harm could it do?” Finn returned, a touch of frustration edging into his own diplomatic tone.

“Maybe he knows what happened?” Octavia chimed in, “Probably helped.”  She continued to keep a hand against her brother as a precaution, but she took a step back to keep Murphy in sight as well. They both looked poised to charge at any moment, Bellamy’s heart hammering beneath her fingers and Murphy’s weight shifting subtly to the balls of his feet as they stared each other down. 

“No, I’m not letting him talk his way out of this one,” he declared, “I’m not making the same mistake I did last time.”

“Same mistake? You’re doing _exactly_ the same thing you did last time!” Finn snapped in exasperation,  “Shoot first, question later. If I hadn’t stopped you then, too, we would have never found out about the bridge. He tipped us off, remember?”

“And then went on a murder spree,” Bellamy shot back, “Remember _?_ ”

“Okay, bad example, but-”

“But he tried to kill Bellamy,” Octavia interjected, giving an accusing glance at their silent visitor as she just barely maintained her position as a peacekeeper. 

“He _shot_ Raven, or did you forget that, too?” Bitterness dripped from Bellamy’s tone and Finn flinched under his withering gaze that had shifted from Murphy to himself.

“No, I haven’t,” he pronounced firmly, “Raven’s exactly the reason I think we should hear him out. What if he’s the only one who can help us find her? To find all of them?” Finn sounded earnest, even a little desperate, but Bellamy remained obstinate in his response.

“He’s not going to help us.”  

“You do realize I’m still standing here, right?” The collective turn of heads suggested they had perhaps forgotten his presence, and Murphy looked more peeved than petrified by the discussion of his fate.

“Shut up, Murphy,” the Blake siblings responded in near perfect unison, and the whole situation could have been comical if it hadn’t been so dire.

“Look, I’m just saying we need to think about this,” Finn repeated.

“What is there to think about? He killed Connor and Miles, he nearly killed me, and then he brought back his Grounder friends to finish us off,” Bellamy condemned, “He doesn’t get a third chance.”

“What happened to every life matters?” Finn countered.

“Not his.” The words were cold, matching the hard line of Bellamy’s jaw as he settled on the decision.

“Look around!” Finn shouted, throwing his arms out to the side, “There are _three_ of us Bellamy. Three. A survivor is a survivor, we can’t afford to hold grudges right now.”

“A grudge? This isn’t about some grudge, Finn, this _is_ about survival. And he will kill us in our sleep if we don’t take care of him now.” His voice rose to meet Finn’s, and their shouts rebounded through the empty clearing as Octavia found herself separating her two companions instead of fending off the new intruder.

“First off, still here,” Murphy interrupted, his weak voice barely catching the attention of the fuming teens. “And second, while this debate is fascinating, if you want someone left to kill you better hurry it up...” he trailed off, staggering back a step to lean against the remains of the gate.

“What?” Bellamy turned back to the subject of their conversation as he spouted out what he presumed to be a threat. Finn, however, discerned the meaning of Murphy’s words, abandoning his stand-off with the leader to confirm his suspicions. 

“Shit, he’s bleeding out,” he stated, crouching down to get a better look at the reopened knife wound on his left thigh.

“Good, let him,” Bellamy dismissed, shifting back a step as he sensed his need to defend dwindling. 

“What happened?” Octavia asked, curiosity usurping concern as she peered over Finn’s shoulder.

“Present from my ‘Grounder friends,’” Murphy explained through gritted teeth, pressing a hand against the wound to stem the flow of blood. He shot a hard glance in Bellamy’s direction before returning his gaze to the ground, leaning heavily against the wooden support structure.

“As I was going to say, before you threw an _ax_ at my head, I was just looking for medical supplies. I didn’t even know you guys were down here,” he continued,  “If I had, I wouldn’t have bothered. Dying alone would have been preferable to this shit show.”

“Don’t be dramatic, you’re not dying,” Octavia responded with a roll of her eyes, but Murphy was unconvinced. He looked up to Bellamy, eyes asking the question Octavia hadn’t intended to pose. The moment that passed between them was brief, but weighted, carrying the fate of ninety-eight carved initials.

“Not yet,” the leader responded, a threat and a pardon all in one as he gave a small nod to Octavia before pushing past Finn to retrieve his hatchet. 

“I’ll get the moonshine,” Octavia announced, sighing at the fickle antics of men.

* * *

With Clarke missing and Bellamy staunchly refusing to touch Murphy with anything other than a knife, it was left to Finn and Octavia to guess their way through a tourniquet. To his credit, John managed not to complain through the arduous process, protesting only at the younger Blake’s excessively tight knot that threatened to cut off more than just his circulation. She waved him off as a sissy and finished off her work with a finesse she had clearly picked up from a certain blonde. Finn contributed the necessary herbs, and was even thoughtful enough to retrieve a fresh cup of water, bringing back a touch of color to Murphy’s pallid skin.

None of them had actually taken much notice to his condition in the heated reunion, but now that tensions had subsided momentarily, it became clear that the banished delinquent was in just as poor shape as the rest of them, perhaps even worse. His old battle scars gave him a permanent image of trauma, but there were new ones, fresh and bleeding that cut across the barely healing lines of the past. The deep knife-wound in his leg was the most prominent of these, and the entire left half of his trousers were browning from the stains. His wrists were likewise caked in a new layer of blood, rubbed raw from what Bellamy could only guess was some kind of rope. Perhaps he had been telling the truth about the Grounders, but he had little time for speculation; all Bellamy wanted were answers.

“All right you got your medical supplies now spit it out. Where are they?” he demanded, pacing back to where the three had settled down just outside of the drop ship.

“If you think I’m telling you, you’re crazy,” Murphy replied with a harsh laugh, gingerly washing his hands in the basin of moonshine Octavia had brought out.

“And if you think I won’t put this ax in your head then so are you,” Bellamy threatened, reaching for the very weapon as he took another step towards his old second-in-command.

“Oh I know you will, trust me,” Murphy replied, “That’s why I’m not going to tell you.” He shook out his hands to dry them off, ignoring the way Bellamy towered above him, just waiting for an excuse to use the weapon clenched in his grip.

“I’ll show you,” he amended, “Might as well push back the execution date a few days.” Only Murphy seemed to take amusement in his own sarcasm, and Finn looked appalled.

“Murphy, we’re not going to execute anyone,” he insisted, but Murphy needed only to raise an eyebrow to remind him how untrue the statement was. “Bellamy tell him,” Finn added, turning to the brunette with a look that said ‘don’t be a jackass.’

“Depends on what he says. If it’s the truth, sure. If not...” Bellamy let the sentence drift off, a challenge that no one would take up.

“And how exactly do you plan to prove that?” Murphy responded, and the silence was enough to confirm his suspicions. “Like I said, I’ll show you,” he concluded, giving his neck a satisfying crack as he stretched out his sore limbs.

“Try not to drag out this debate too long though,” he requested with equal parts snark and exasperation, “Some of your friends were in much worse shape than me.” Bellamy looked like he was ready to take his head off, but Finn jumped in first.

“So you saw them? You saw the others?” he asked, hope lighting up in his tone and quickly brightening Octavia’s features as well. “Did you see Raven? Was she alive? And Clarke?”

“I saw some of them, I don’t know who exactly. They were too far away,” Murphy replied, giving a shrug as he continued, “Clarke was there, I know that much. Girl’s hair is practically reflective. Raven...maybe? I don’t know. They took a lot of them, I assumed all of them.”

“And why exactly were you here?” Octavia questioned, packing up the last of the medical supplies as she turned her full attention back to their conversation. “Were you watching us? Were you helping them?” 

“I was tied to a fucking tree, I didn’t have much else to look at,” Murphy spat, “So no, I wasn’t helping much of anyone.” 

“If you were tied to a tree, then how do you know where the Mountain Men took them?” Octavia retorted with childish indignation, clearly hoping to catch him in a lie.  

“Because I have ears,” Murphy replied, “and the Mountain Men speak English.” 

* * *

While Murphy graciously collapsed into one of the hammocks for an afternoon nap, the three survivors were left to debate their next move, an activity which was already exhausting Bellamy. Clarke had been right, it wasn’t easy being in charge. And even as their numbers dwindled, it seemed that somehow there were more dissenting voices than ever.

“This is the most promising lead we’ve found so far.”

“Which isn’t saying much. It’s Murphy we’re talking about here.”

“Yea, he’s not my first pick either, but he seemed to be telling the truth. Honestly he looked too tired to lie.”

“So we’re just going to follow him blindly into the woods?”

“I’m still a decent tracker, even with only one good eye. I should be able to tell if he’s leading us in the right direction.”

“But we told Lincoln we would wait at camp, he’ll be back in a few days. We can’t just leave.”

“Okay hold on you two, we need to prioritize here,” Bellamy cut in, collecting his own thoughts as his remaining two companions turned their attention to him.

“He said they took Clarke, and everyone else who was here. That at least means they survived the blast and are still alive. For now. But if what Lincoln said before is right, we need to get to them before the Mountain Men take them back to where ever it is they are headed, if they haven’t reached it already,” he began, laying out the facts as he had in his mind.

“If we leave now, we might have a chance to catch up. Maybe. And if Murphy’s lying, we’ll head back to camp and meet up with Lincoln like we planned,” he concluded, looking between the two as they processed his decision.

“But Bell, what if Lincoln comes back and we’re not here? What if other survivors come back? I thought you said we needed to rest up and look for the outer guard?” Octavia asked, trapped between which false hope to pursue more. The one they had imagined for themselves, or the one Murphy had bestowed upon them.

“That’s why you’re staying here. You can stay in the drop ship, keep your head low, and heal up that leg. If we’re gone for too long, Lincoln will come back for you.”

“Oh no no no, we’re not doing this again. I’m not hiding in another cupboard while you go off to fight all my battles,” she protested. “Bellamy, we’re in this together, okay? We either stay or we go. All of us.” Her tone was final, and even her brother knew this was an argument he had already lost.

“But your leg-” he tried, but she cut him off.

“To hell with my leg, Bell. I’ll manage. Look, what I’m more worried about is Murphy. Are we really going to trust him to be our guide out there? Do _you_ trust him?

“Of course I don’t trust him,” Bellamy said, shaking away the thought with disgust. “But I know I can take care of him. If the Grounders tried to kill him, then who does he have left? He might be dangerous, but he’s only one man. There’s no crowds left to hide in this time, and no guns. It’s just him and us. As long as we don’t let our guard down, we should be okay.” Even as he said the words, Bellamy didn’t believe them. There was something about Murphy that crawled under his skin. The look in his eyes when he’d pulled the noose tight around his neck, the insatiable thirst for revenge that burned in his very being. That was something even he wasn’t sure he could contain. 

“I’ll keep a close watch on him,” Finn confirmed, clearly pushing for the expedition to the woods. His motivations were written in his every movement, a fidgety anxiety that rolled off him in waves. Raven hadn’t left his thoughts since the blast, and every minute that passed felt like a minute wasted. 

“I know we promised Lincoln, but we can’t give up on them, Octavia. On Clarke, and Jasper, and Raven. And everyone else. We have to at least try,” he reasoned, “I owe them at least that much.” 

“All right,” Octavia agreed, offering a small smile to banish the guilty crease in her brother’s brow. “You know I can never stay in camp for long anyways,” she quipped, and the joke brought a wry smile to his lips.

“But you owe me at least one piggyback ride on this trip,” she declared, “I am injured after all.” And with that, she strutted back off to the drop ship to pack her supplies for the trip, leaving the boys to prepare themselves.

They would need rations, water, weapons, and all the luck they could get if they were going to survive the next few days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the road trip from hell! Or as it says in my writing notes "shit-show stumblefest." It's what happens when you take a tracker with one eye, a soldier with one good hand, and two people with one good leg each and ask them to trek through the woods together successfully. 
> 
> I realize this chapter is a bit dialogue heavy, but I'm kind of addicted to their conversations. This fic will absolutely have some action (coming up soon), but I'm hoping to emulate the style of the show in having characters argue over moral ambiguities. There will be a lot of them!
> 
> As always, comments and reviews are adored. I love to hear what you guys think, positive or negative. I'm also curious if any of you have predictions for where this is going to go.


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